Void
by chosenpotter
Summary: "they were drunken on the victory of war. but they were hungover for the rest of their lives." in which a boy tries to figure out who he is, and tries to save himself from the void.
1. prologue

In the beginning, there was silence. Just wholesome, peaceful silence. Silence had been hard to come by for many months now, and to some, it was well worth waiting for.

The sun rose in the east, shining light upon all the damage that had been done. The rays of sunlight stretched across the Hogwarts grounds, and there was nothing but silence. The destruction was thrown into great relief, with bricks scattered about and fires that still needed putting out. It was a horrible mess, to say the least.

And inside the Great Hall is where our story begins. It hardly looks like the dining hall it used to be, tables pushed to the side and bodies lain across stretchers. So many people had been killed, but they had all been fighting for something important. They had been willing to lay down their lives in order to make a better world for everyone else.

Among them were the living, the ones with gashes on their cheeks and dirt on their clothes. Most hadn't made it up to the hospital wing yet, hanging around the Great Hall and reuniting with some of their peers. In a corner, Ginny Weasley sat with her mother, her expression blank and her posture tired. She had lost a brother today, and it still stung. But for now, she was numb, and that was a better feeling than pain.

By the window, Luna Lovegood was being held close by Neville Longbottom. She gave him a tired smile, her blue eyes not as bright as they usually were. He understood. They had a long year, and it was finally over. For that, they were both grateful.

By the door, Hermione Granger clung to Ron Weasley's side, refusing to let go of his hand. Her cheek rested on the upper part of his arm, eyes half-lidded as she scanned the hall, picking out people that she recognized. Ron rubbed comforting circles on the back of her hand, but she hardly paid attention. She was looking for something important. Or, rather, someone.

All around, almost all who had participated in the battle were gathered in that Hall. But, there were two people missing from the crowd. One wasn't much important at all, though he was partly responsible for the reason this whole war startled.

The other was the one who had ended it.

 _HDHD_

Silence and solitude was something that Harry Potter had been seeking for months now, and he finally had it. He knew they had expected him to remain in the Great Hall, probably to make a speech or something like that, but he just had to get away from it all. So, on the Cloak went, and Harry made his clever disappearance.

He had stopped at Dumbledore's office first, the Elder Wand weighing heavily in his pocket. He had wanted to return it to it's proper owner, and to try out an experiment as well. He opened the moleskin pouch that hung around his neck, removing the pieces of his own wand. He had been incredibly heartbroken when it had snapped in half, back in December when he and Hermione had narrowly escaped from Nagini. But, he had a thought. _Could_ the Elder Wand mend his own?

Harry had laid the broken pieces of his wand on Dumbledore's desk, putting them as close together as possible. Then, he drew the Elder Wand over the crack, and to his surprise and delight, his own wand mended under the tip. As he laid the Elder Wand on top of Dumbledore's desk, he gave his wand an experimental wave. Bright sparks shot out of the tip, and he could feel the wood thrumming with power.

After his trip to Dumbledore's office, Harry had headed up to the Astronomy Tower. It was the quietest place at the moment, and nobody would think of looking for him up here. It also gave him some time to himself, to let his thoughts become coherent, and to let his mind wander for at least a little while.

Harry wondered who he was, now that he had saved the Wizarding World. Though, he supposed they'd come up with some _stupid_ name like the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, or the Golden Boy Savior. He had always hated those nicknames, and now they'd get even worse, since he was a war hero. They'd write about him in history books once more (perhaps even a whole book series), and he'd be thrust into the spotlight for years to come.

But, Ron and Hermione would be able to share the spotlight as well. They had done as much as he did, and deserved the glory that they would be given. He was happy for them. Ron would finally get the fame that he wanted, and deserved, and Hermione could actually read about herself in books. It was a win for everybody, except for Harry, who hardly wanted any of the fame at all.

Slight footsteps behind him startled him out of his reverie, and he turned to look at who had discovered his hiding place. But Draco Malfoy didn't seem to see him at all, lost in his own world as he slowly climbed up the steps. As grey eyes met green, Draco finally seemed to realize he wasn't alone.

"Potter." he said monotonously, not even a smirk twitching at his pale pink lips.

"Malfoy." Harry replied, leaning against the railing behind him. "Surprised you haven't left by now. Aren't your parents waiting?"

"They are." Draco shrugged, moving to stand beside Harry, though he was facing the view. "But I thought I'd gaze out upon Hogwarts one last time."

"Not coming back next year?" Harry asked, turning as well, and he directed his sights to the impossibly blue skies.

"Well, I don't know. If I get put on probation, which I suspect I might, then I'll be back here on order. But perhaps I'll travel elsewhere. How about you?"

The question stumped Harry for a moment or two. Was he going to come back? It was a hard choice. On one hand, he couldn't ever imagine leaving Hogwarts. It was his first real home, and leaving it would just seem wrong. But on the other, he had a strange need to go off by himself for a long while, and think about things.

"I'll take that silence as a 'I'm not sure yet', but I'm surprised. Harry Potter, not wanting to come back to Hogwarts? What a headline." Draco drawled, stepping away from the railing. "Well, I'd better head out. The Aurors will show up soon, no doubt, and I don't want to get caught up in that whole mess."

Harry listened to the blonde leave, and he pondered over the other's words. Everyone would want him to go back to Hogwarts to finish schooling, of course. He was destined for this life, to become an Auror, to be a good little poster boy. But he didn't have to be that until September first. He still had three months of freedom left, and he certainly wouldn't waste it by hanging around here.

"Harry?"

Harry turned once more, to find Ron and Hermione standing at the top of the stairs. They both looked exhausted, but happy to see his grimy face. He walked over to embrace the pair of them, though his heart sank. He knew what they were going to say.

"Mate." Ron started. "We're all heading to the Burrow. Did you-"

"No."

His answer seemed to surprise them both, but Ron, surprisingly, nodded in understanding. He had expected Hermione to grasp what he was on about, but Ron knew him better.

"We understand. Just contact us if you need anything, okay?"

Harry nodded, giving them both a smile as they left him be. He then turned to gaze back out of the view, but he had a new hope in his heart. This could be a new beginning. A fresh start. He'd be able to start anew.

Or, perhaps not.


	2. the smell of smoke

Rain slashed the windows of the tiny London street, but the boy inside the house in the middle of the lot slept on. The place in specifics was Grimmauld Place, and the house was Number 12. But to the passersby, it was like the house didn't even exist. In fact, the number 12 was missing from in between 11 and 13.

If one was to go inside the house, they'd find it in a sort of shabby disarray. There were discarded coffee cups littered around the kitchen, and the radio in the corner left on a soft, crackling station that barely came in. The whole place had a sort of musty smell to it, and the curtains always remained shut.

Upstairs, in the room to the left on the third floor, the house's only occupant was slumbering the morning away. A calendar pinned to the wall had today's date circled in red, as if it were very important. And, in fact, it most definitely was. Today was the day that the boy was due to go back to school to complete his final year.

A room can tell you a lot about a person, and this one definitely did. The boy was one who was forced to grow up fast in a short amount of time, shown in the worn 8-track and the shabby headphones attached to it. A pack of cigarrettes lay on the bedside table, along with a well-worn sweatshirt and ratty trainers on the floor below.

Still, even with the closed off windows, sun managed to creep it's way in, and the boy was forced to rouse from his sleep. He rubbed at his face as his green eyes slowly opened, taking in the blurry room for a moment before reaching for his round spectacles. Bedcovers were kicked off in slow fashion, a hand scratching at his stomach below his sleep shirt.

Harry Potter hadn't wanted to go out in public for the past few months, instead staying inside Grimmauld Place for the majority of it. He only went outside to get things he needed, such as his newfound addiction of a good smoke, and even then, he still wore a hood. He had refused all owls that had come his way, preferring to remain private and not even talk to his closest friends.

His bleary eyes traveled to the calendar, then widened as he practically leaped out of bed. He had to be to King's Cross in less than two hours, and he had no time to waste. He really didn't want to be late, especially since he'd already bought all his things for the new school year.

After a quick trip to the shower, Harry dressed in a plain tee and a pair of holey jeans before making his way downstairs. He hardly even saw Kreacher anymore, so he had to make his own toast, which he burnt. There wasn't really any room to gripe about it, as he was on a tight enough schedule as it was.

Another quick trip was made back upstairs to get his trunk, bump-thumping all the way back downstairs as he dragged the heavy thing behind him. A quick glance to check the time, and he was off, Apparating to a back alley near the station. For once, he was grateful that he was of age, and that he didn't have to walk the distance anymore, or be driven.

As Harry pushed his trolley through the always-busy station of King's Cross, he had a sudden flashback to a boy of eleven, wondering how on earth he was going to get onto a platform that wasn't even there. Oh, how long ago that'd been, but the mere memory of it made him smile. His eleven year old self hadn't a clue what was to happen in the next years of his life, and he wished he could be that blissful and ignorant once more. But everything had already happened, and now he had to live with it.

The first thing that Harry did when he arrived on the platform was take a heaping inhale of the sweet smoke that blew from the Hogwarts Express. It was nice to have something familiar to grip onto, and if he focused on it enough, he could mostly ignore the stares and whispers that occurred as he tried to maneuver his trolley through the massive crowd of witches and wizards.

Harry heard them before he saw them, and he hung back. He could see a tall redhead and a short bushy-haired girl up ahead, and the girl was blabbing on about schedules and time. But as she turned to glance behind her, brown eyes widened in recognition.

"Harry!"

Harry suddenly found himself enveloped in a crushing hug, smushed in the middle by the two people he called his best friends. Hermione was an inch taller than him now, while Ron towered over the pair of them, stooping down the best he could to join the hug.

"Harry." Hermione said again as they broke apart, a wide smile on her face. "It's so good to see you again! I worried you didn't get any of our owls."

"I did." Harry said, feeling slightly guilty. "I just...I ignored them. I needed some space from the world for awhile, y'know?"

Hermione frowned, hugging her torso as she looked him up and down. A sigh escaped her lips, and she shared a glance with Ron before looking back to him.

"You don't look well, Harry." she fretted. "I bet you haven't been eating enough, have you? You should've come to the Burrow with us, Mrs. Weasley would've stuffed you full-"

"Leave it." Harry snapped, taking a step back form them. "Look, I had my reasons. Don't nag me about it."

Hermione's lips fell to a perfect 'o', and she looked slightly hurt.

"Harry, I didn't mean anything like that, and you know it. I'm just concerned for you."

"Hermione." Ron said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. "He doesn't want to talk about it, so don't. What matters is that he's here, and that he actually came back."

"We thought you'd offed yourself!" Hermione burst out. "We thought you were. . . d-dead."

Harry could tell that was what she had been most eager to say, and he felt affronted by the statement. Did they really think he was that reckless? Another step back, and he was almost over the side of the platform.

"Hermione." Ron's voice was more firm this time, effectively shutting the discussion down. "We should go grab a compartment before they all fill up, right?"

"Compartment!" Hermione suddenly seemed to come back to herself, and Harry felt it safe to shuffle back toward her. "Yes, that's right. A compartment, we probably should- come on, the both of you."

It was like she was her old Hermione-ish self from first year, marching off into the crowds. Harry momentarily forgot to grab his trunk, suddenly remembering as a voice over the intercom warned them they only had five minutes left before the train left.

"Don't take it badly, Harry." Ron said as they walked, pulling their trunks behind them. "She's just concerned, and can you blame her? You were completely gone for almost three months, mate. Anything could've happened to you and we never would've known, since you didn't contact us at all."

"I know." Harry muttered, looking away from him. "But it hurts that you can't even trust me enough to know that I'd never do a thing like that."

A lie. He'd thought about it once or twice over the summer, but he knew he could never do it on his own. He was too scared.

"I'll tell her to back off a bit, okay? Just until you're ready to open up." Ron patted him on the shoulder, then clambered up onto the train.

Harry followed closely behind him, tugging his trunk down the corridor. As he glanced into compartments on the way by, he spotted one that was relatively empty, except for a blonde boy. Malfoy had come back after all, it seemed. But where was everyone?

"Did you see Malfoy?" he asked Ron. "He was all by himself. Did the others not come back?"

"I don't know." Ron shrugged. "But I don't really care. Dunno why he came back, anyways, he's a traitor."

Harry pursed his lips together in thought, ignoring Hermione's brash scolding for taking their time to get to the compartment as they entered and shut the door behind them. He knew he shouldn't be caring about Malfoy much either, but it seemed that the blonde was always at the back of his mind. Even over the summer, he had sparing thoughts about what Malfoy could possibly be doing at that moment.

No. He wouldn't fall back into that pattern all over again. This year, he'd focus on himself, and that was that.

But, perhaps it wasn't.


End file.
